Changes
by ghfann5
Summary: It's been years since Kirstina and Ethan have seen each other, and a lot has changed, mostly with Kristina. How will they react once they see each other again? Ethina
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: I'm wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this, but I kind of liked how it turned out. Please feel free to ask any questions if it gets confusing...also, I'm probably going to just leave it as this one chapter..._**

Kristina stood on the docks, reminiscing about her life in Port Charles. It had been at least seven years since the last time she stood there. Seven years since she could call Port Charles home. The early spring winds suddenly attacked her. She tugged at her full-length leather jacket to give herself some protection. She looked out to the lake, sure she could spot Wyndemere. That's when she felt a presence behind her. Not wanting whoever it was to catch on, she remained facing the water while cautiously reaching her hand into her jacket. Kristina braced herself as the person slowly approached her. When she felt the hand on her shoulder, that's when she made her move. In one quick motion, she had her gun pointed directly to the man's face.

He froze, surprised to be greeted with the barrel of a gun. He looked at her eyes, still that chocolaty brown, but cold and hard. As recognition registered in her mind, he saw those eyes grow faintly softer.

"Hi, love," he said.

"Ethan?"

He smiled, despite the weapon still aimed at him.

She wearily lowered her arm, glad that she hadn't done her usual "shoot first, ask questions later" bit.

He had imagined this many times over the years; the day they would meet again. All he wanted to do now was wrap her in his arms, but he knew that he couldn't. She wasn't there for him. And even if she was, she was a different person now.

He could tell just by looking at her. She'd probably never be the same again. His eyes roamed briefly over her body, wincing when he noticed the scar across her neck. The blight across her throat wasn't the only one he found. Just above her left eyebrow was a faint scar.

Kristina tried uselessly to cover her throat when she saw Ethan staring.

"You're back," he said.

"Yeah," she answered in a quiet voice. She was still surprised that he was standing in front of her. Sure, she knew that it would probably happen sooner or later in their small town. She was about to speak again when someone called her from behind.

"Boss?"

She turned to see her burly guard hesitantly approaching. She looked back to Ethan, who was still staring at her.

"Yeah, Trace?" she answered the man.

He cleared his throat. "Your meeting...we should get going soon."

"Thank you, I'll be there in five."

With this the man disappeared again.

"Boss? Meeting?" Ethan repeated. "So I guess the rumors are true? You're taking over the family business?"

Kristina could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"Who else?" she asked sulkily.

"I just never thought that you, out of all of Sonny's children, would be taking over."

"You and everyone else, including me."

They stood in silence for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes.

Things could have been so different. But when you were a Cassidine _and_ a Corinthos, nothing ever happened the way it was supposed to. In a perfect world, she wouldn't be the only one left in the family to head the Corinthos Organization. In a perfect world, she wouldn't have been targeted all of her life just for being Sonny's kid. In a perfect world, she wouldn't have been the dangerous one standing on that dock, and she and Ethan would be having a completely different conversation.

As he looked at her, he tried to find a piece of the girl that he once loved. The Krissy that was light and happy always smiling. However, his search was futile.

She had been through too much to be that girl again. Now she was a dejected woman.

Still, he wanted her.

Kristina ached with "what-ifs." What if she never left? What if he came with her? What if Michael was still alive? What if her family forgave her? What if she never hurt them in the first place?

She sighed. Sam had always told her not to dwell on things she couldn't change. She shuddered at the thought of her sister, remembering the main why she was back in town. _Another funeral_.

"I should get going," she said reluctantly.

"Oh, right." There were so many things that he wanted to say to her in that moment, but he figured he would have more time for that. "I guess we'll be seeing each other around?" He gave her a small smile.

Realization dawned on Kristina and a small wry smirk came over her face. "I guess so, seeing as how we run in the same circles now." Kristina turned on her heel and stormed off in the direction her guard had taken off in earlier.

Ethan's own smile faltered as he watched her leave. _Same circles._ A small part of him took some twisted pleasure in thinking about future run-ins with Kristina, but he knew that he would most likely meet his new enemy again under completely different circumstances.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: I haven't completely given up on this story. The others were kinda giving me trouble, but it's okay because now I'm able to update this story. I hope you enjoy.**_

Kristina sat alone in the church.

The service wouldn't start for another three hours, and she really needed to get to that meeting, but she just need some time.

She needed to collect her thoughts, to wrap her head around this. She sighed as she took in her peaceful surroundings, mainly the afternoon sun that lightly streamed through the high glass-stained windows.

She wasn't sure how she should feel right now. She thought being in church was supposed to make her feel better, but she couldn't forget that the last few times she had been in a church were for funerals.

The last one was definitely one of the hardest to endure. She watched the flow of sunlight and let her thoughts drift away to that heart-wrenching day...

_**8 Years Ago...**_

_Kristina didn't hear the words of Father Coates or even her own stifled sobs. She faintly heard Carly wailing in the background. Her little brother and sister sat to her left and her father on her right, though their presence barely registered with her. Her head was pounding._

_Her brother—her hero, her best friend—was gone. And she was angry. Angry at Michael because it was his fault. If only he had listened to everyone who warned him against joining the organization, especially with their father's nemesis. But no, he was an adult and the only one who could make decisions for his life. When Sonny and Jason blatantly dismissed the idea of Michael having anything to do with their organization, he decided to do things his own way and join Johnny._

_And now, here they all were, mourning him._

_Kristina was so tired of grieving. It was terrible, but she had already predicted this outcome. If he didn't wind up back in jail, then it would definitely be this. _

_What were they supposed to do now? Their dad would undoubtedly go after Johnny and attempt to take down the Zaccharas for good. A mob war was definitely not what anyone needed right now, but it was inevitable._

_Kristina felt a hand on her shoulder and instinctively put hers over it. She turned around and slightly squeezed Sam's hand._

_Poor Sam, she thought. She figured that Sam was grieving just as much as everyone else on the inside. After all, she had known and loved Michael for most of his life. She just made sure everyone else was taken care of, not even thinking of herself. Kristina wished she would, though. Sam was about four months into a risky pregnancy, and those months had been filled with nothing but stress. Kristina didn't know how her sister did it._

_She glanced next to Sam at Jason, afraid to fully look him in the eye. Something in Jason broke when Michael died, like a part of him died too. Kristina couldn't stand to see the strong and protective man she always knew so vulnerable now. But she could understand. She felt like a piece of her was broken, too._

_She turned back to face the front of the church. She stared at the large picture of Michael and wondered if this was what her life would always be like, attending the funerals of the people she loved that were taken away by violence..._

Kristina closed her eyes and sighed, saddened by how true her revelation came to be. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, much like Sam's had been that day. She jerked around to see who it was.

"Molly?"

"What are you doing here?"

The harshness in her baby sister's tone caught her slightly off guard. She shouldn't have expected anything less, though.

"He's my father," she said defensively as she stood. "Of course I would be here."

"Oh, so suddenly he's your father again?"

"Molly—"

"Where have you been these past five months while your _father_ was in a coma? What's been so important that you couldn't get here until he died?"

She stared at Kristina, tears filling her eyes. "Morgan and I have been the _only_ ones here for him! You have some nerve showing up out of nowhere after how many years? Pretending that you care! You should have just stayed away."

Kristina was speechless. Her calm little sister was an irrational mess right now. But she was right, about everything. She had practically abandoned her sister, even though Molly pretty much disowned her before she left. It didn't matter that she only left because she thought it was the best thing for everyone. She wasn't there when her sister needed her.

"Molly, I'm—" She tried to apologize but it was difficult because of the sob she was trying to suppress.

"I don't really care what you have to say. You should just leave now, before anyone else sees you."

"I can't miss my own father's funeral. Mom and Mor—"

"You think your presence here is going to help anyone? No one wants to see you. Just go!"

Kristina was about to argue with her when a voice came from the entrance of the church.

"Molly?" a concerned voice came.

Kristina watched as a young man quickly made his way to Molly's side.

"Hey..." he put his hand on Molly's shoulder before turning to his sister.

"Kristina? I don't believe it."

"Morgan." Kristina took a step closer to her little brother, but was halted in her attempt.

"Don't," Morgan said, giving her the same harsh look that their father had perfected; one eyebrow raised with his face turned to the side, warning her to stay away.

"Why are you here?"

Kristina was angry now. She understood that they couldn't stand the sight of her, and with good reason, but she had a right to be here, too. Maybe not as much as them, but still.

"Morgan, please. Just hear me out." Before either Molly or Morgan could object, an all too familiar sound filled their ears.

Morgan pulled his cousin between a pair of pews while Kristina ducked down opposite of them, gun already in hand.

Molly began to scream when she heard the shots, prompting Morgan to place his hand over her mouth. Kristina peaked out to the direction the bullets came from, the entrance of the church. Once thing ringing subsided, Kristina stood and carefully made her way to the door, where she knew a couple of her men should be waiting.

"Joey, Von?"

"You alright, Boss?" Trace asked, meeting Kristina before she reached the front.

"Yeah I'm good, Trace. Where are we?"

"They're already gone, but I sent Smith and Myles after them. You should get out of here."

"Alright. Bring the car out front. I'll be out in a minute."

Trace nodded and hastily made his way outside.

When Kristina turned around, she saw her brother and sister watching her; Morgan with anger and Molly with disgust.

"Kristina," Morgan said. "You need to leave. Now."

"Morgan, I'm—"

"We haven't had any problems for months. His business hasn't touched us since all of affairs were handed over to you. But as soon as you're back, the bullets start flying. Get out of here."

Kristina couldn't argue with that. The one thing she hated the most about her job was that it constantly put her family in danger. That was one of the main reasons she stayed away, to protect them. She didn't have anything else to say. She could tell from looking at their faces that it was pointless to even try.

Never one to hang her head for anyone else to see, she gave a tight nod and turned on her heel.

It was better this way. Besides, she had business to take care of.


	3. Chapter 3

After the initial frisking, Kristina followed by Trace entered the dimly lit room secluded in the back of the building. Her nerves were a bit jumbled from the attack at the church and the prospect of meeting the heads of the other families in person for the first time. She'd already been briefed about who to expect: pretty much the same players as before, in some version or another. Her only biggest worries were the Trujillos and, of course, the Zaccharas.

The Trujillo family was now run by Alicia, a grandniece of one of the originals. Kristina knew how tough it would be for her as a woman to gain much respect in this business. She figured having another woman there could go one of three ways: Alicia would understand Kristina's own difficulties and cut her some slack, or she would look out for hers and damn anyone who interfered with her business or family, which was more likely. She heard rumors of how the mob princess came into her post: blackmail and blood. Kristina just had to make sure she kept up the façade of being just as ruthless, despite Alicia's ten-year seniority on her.

Then there was Johnny. This was not the ideal way for two old friends to be reintroduced, but the two had a new understanding and distance between them. Forget all the past saves or friendly conversations or comforting. The bottom line was that they were enemies—not by choice, but by birth. Still, as hard as she tried not to, Kristina had a soft spot for the man who had rescued numerous times in the past, both physically and emotionally.

Kristina shook her head of the thoughts that rose a bit of panic in her chest. She gave one more sparing look at Trace, the only person in the world she trusted and relied on more than herself. He flashed a look of encouragement when he found her worried eyes. The look probably would have been missed by anyone else. In some ways he reminded her of Jason—quiet and observant until needed, loyal almost to a fault. He also had a shattered past, his wife and two daughters taken away from him in a horrible fire that he barely managed to escape and left a permanent reminder along the length of his arms. Trace was strong, and not just in the overtly physical way. He was in his early thirties and, aside from the burns that marred otherwise mocha skin on his burly arms, he was perfect in appearance, and his six-foot-five frame easily intimidated. His dark brown eyes spoke volumes of his overall personality: quiet, wise, protective, kind-hearted.

She didn't give him any signal of appreciation in response, but she knew he understood that it wasn't out of malice; she just needed to keep her icy composure in preparation for the task at hand.

The door ominously creaked open. Upon entering, she tried not to survey the faces of her standing peers.

"All due respect, Ms. Corinthos," boomed a strained, New York brogue that Kristina rarely encountered in the past few months abroad. "But all guards wait outside. S'okay, we don't expect you to know everything on your first day," he mocked.

Kristina focused her already irritated gaze on the old man belonging to the voice. Trace instinctually took a small step closer to his employer.

"Show the lady some respect, Mr. Santorum."

Kristina didn't even have to try to guess who'd said it. After nearly ten years, she would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Mr. Zacchara," Kristina addressed with feigned disinterest as she turned to face him. He still looked the same. The only thing that really changed about him was his attire—no longer his signature dark jeans and leather jacket, but a dark pressed suit—and his hair, now more closely cropped tinged grey at the temples. But his face had the same youthfulness as when she last saw him. He had a small crooked smile which Kristina had to remind herself not to reciprocate.

She turned her attention back to Mr. Santorum. "Don't worry. Trace isn't staying."

Out the corner of her eye she could tell Trace was repressing a rebuttal as his entire body tense. Instead, he fought his reflexes and respectfully gave a tight nod and walked out of the room.

"Now that we're all here..." a small woman gestured for them all to sit down. Knowing this had to be the infamous Alicia Trujillo, Kristina was thoroughly surprised...and impressed. She had to be five feet, give or take a couple of inches. Kristina herself barely hit five-four, but at least her face made her look mature. This woman looked like a twelve-year-old, especially with her jet-black hair back in a sloppy ponytail, slightly oversized suit, and glasses that took up half of her pale face.

Kristina remembered her ex-stepmother Claudia once telling her that if women wanted to have any footing in this business, they had look like the men expected them, but have bigger balls. Kristina tried to abide by that philosophy, dressing presentably and detaching herself from any emotions other than anger and pride. Looking at this tiny dressed-down woman who, from what she heard, struck fear in every man and woman in her vicinity, she wasn't so sure that Claudia had been right.

"First order of business; let's welcome the newest member to the family, Kristina Corinthos, who's replacing the former head of the Corinthos-Morgan organization. We're sorry for your loss, Ms. Corinthos. Your father was a great businessman."

Everyone nodded in agreement to Alicia's poor excuse of condolence. She doubted any of them had kind feelings toward her Sonny Corinthos; he was an insufferable bastard, right up until the day he died. Kristina simply tilted her head solemnly and let Ms. Trujillo continue.

"Moving on. There's a supposed new threat in town. Santorum's lost two shipments and five men now. Zacchara has reported another warehouse explosion and suffered three casualties. The Castro family just endured a third robbery at one of its establishments. Fortunately, no one was hurt this time. Personally, my family was attacked _in my home_. My nephew was _shot_, and has been in a coma for almost a week."

She said the last part with the objectivity that Kristina had perfected over the years. She figured this might be why the other woman looked like she could care less about what she looked like; she had bigger things to worry about. She looked at Johnny to gage his reaction. She knew how he felt about getting children involved in any of this crap, especially since he grew up surrounded by this violence. His adamancy intensified when he inadvertently caused her brother's first shooting when Michael was barely a teenager.

"And, Ms. Corinthos was nearly gunned down _in a church_."

Kristina wondered for a second how she could possibly know that already; it had only been about twenty minutes, if that. But then she remembered who she was dealing with. You had to have eyes everywhere if you wanted to survive in this town. She looked at Johnny again. He didn't look surprised; neither did anyone else.

"What's the world coming to when you have people shooting little kids and _churches_," said Mr. Santorum with disgust.

It didn't slip by Kristina that he seemed to be more affected by guns in churches rather than the little boy nearing his death. She almost scoffed at the hypocrisy.

"We still can't rule out the possibility that it maybe someone within the organization that's sabotaging the business. Maybe someone new with something to prove." Mr. Castro looked directly at Kristina as he emphasized the last part.

She didn't reward him with a response, afraid that she might say something inappropriate like telling him where to shove his implications.

"That's impossible," defended Johnny. All eyes were on him, most in astonishment.

"How can you be so sure?" Castro asked with deprecation. "Just because you two used to be chummy back in the day..."

"That has nothing to do with it. These attacks have happening for months and Ms. Corinthos just got to Port Charles."

"So what? She's got family here still."

"No," Kristina said firmly, finally breaking her silence. "They have nothing to do with anything. Got it?"

Castro huffed as he set back in his chair and folded his arms like a child that couldn't get his way. Kristina noticed for the first time how young he really was. Mid-twenties, she'd guess, not older than her. He looked like he was thrown into this, the same as her, but with the desire and acceptance that she lacked in the beginning. She knew that Peter Castro Sr. was a notorious badass, so junior had big shoes to fill. Talk about having a chip on the shoulder.

She glanced around the table and realized that the only ones who _looked_ like they really belonged here were Johnny and Santorum. They both exuded the presence that only came with age; there was a distinguished and wise look about them. They were all experienced, growing up with fathers who were brutal leaders. Albeit, the elder two had more time to experience trials that the others hadn't yet or would never have to suffer through. They all had that same fire that drove them. It was a mixture of rage, allegiance, and pure stubbornness. Like it or not, this is what they _had_ to do.

The rest of the meeting was tolerable; no one else brought up Kristina's family again. They talked about enforcing security measures, negotiated waterfront properties, and briefly outlined what was to be expected at next month's meeting.

Kristina was surprised that it had gone as smoothly as it did. She expected great tension when she was thrust into their territory, so to speak. When it was over, Kristina quickly gave a departing comment and made her way out, trying to avoid Johnny as much as possible. She knew that he would probably want to talk to her, but she just couldn't right now.

Without a word, Trace was flanking her. "Where to now, boss?"

He opened the car door for her. She took her seat and spontaneously decided. "I need to go...home."

No further explanation needed, Trace rounded the car and took the wheel. With Kristina giving him the directions, he drove them to the lake house.


End file.
